"Furey,.Maggie.-.Artifacts.of.Power.3.-.Sword.of.Flame" - читать интересную книгу автора (Furey Maggie)

the northwest, toward the towering mountain peaks

beyond which lay lofty Aerillia, the Skyfolk citadel.
Aurian, the headstrong young Mage that the
cavalrymaster had followed halfway across the world,
had gone there in haste the previous day, borne aloft by
winged warriors. She had left Parric again, with barely a
word of explanation, though he had traveled through so
many perils in search of her and had only just found her.
The cavalrymaster's thoughts had been dark with dismay
as he stood looking out across the bleak expanse of
snowfields that were slowly emerging beneath a sky
growing pale behind its gloomy overcast, as the wan light
of another shrouded sunrise seeped reluctantly across the
stark landscape. What the blazes was Aurian up to now?
What was so important that she had left her newborn son
behind at the Tower of Incondor? Parric knew only that
she had gone to find Anvar, the servant who had fled
with her from Nexis on the night of Forral's death. Parric
frowned. What was Anvar to her, that she had gone
rushing off in such frantic haste? True, she'd always been
fond of the lad, butЕ "Oh, don't be bloody stupid,
Parric," he told himself. It was a waste of time to worry
about Aurian. She'd had little time to tell him much about
her adventures, but from the fragments he had managed
to glean, it was obvious that the Mage was capable of
coping with far more than a bunch of flying freaks such
as the Skyfolk of Aerillia.
Somewhat cheered, Parric decided to go in search of

something to drink that would take the chill from his
bones. But as he turned away from the parapet, he was
startled by a movement above him, on the very edge of
his vision. His warrior's reflexes had him crouched in a
defensive corner of the parapet, sword in hand, before he
even realized what was happening. When his thoughts
had time to catch up with his instincts, the cavalrymaster
emerged somewhat sheepishly from his refuge, sheathing
his sword with a rueful curse. It was a good thing no one
had been about to see him, he thought. A right fool he'd
have looked!
Parric scowled up at the changing sky. Clouds. Nothing
but bloody clouds, that's what had alarmed him. "I must
be getting old," he muttered to himselfЧthen suddenly
he stopped and looked again, his eyes narrowing as they
squinted up into the growing brightness. Something
unnatural was happening. The clouds were moving faster
and faster: racing, hurtling across the sky toward the
north. Towering banks of dark vapor rolled ponderously
across the heavens, disintegratingЧeven as Parric looked